


A Little Bit Closer

by violaceum_vitellina_viridis



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Fluff, Identity Reveal, M/M, PWP, Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Smut, Unsafe Sex, Wade Wilson Needs A Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 15:24:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19466779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violaceum_vitellina_viridis/pseuds/violaceum_vitellina_viridis
Summary: Peter fucks up. Peter makes up for it.





	A Little Bit Closer

**Author's Note:**

> this is literally just more self-indulgent porn. i had the idea and i wrote it and it's 8 pages of garbage and porn. 
> 
> full disclosure: everything i know about spiderman and deadpool - and thus, peter and wade - comes from, in order: the spiderman trilogy with toby maguire, the andrew garfield spiderman, deadpool 1 & 2, a handful of out of context comic panels, and fanfic, with some wiki articles sprinkled in. i take full responsibility for the fact that i know truly fuckall about this universe(s) or its characters. i just want to play with them anyway.
> 
> title is from Stranger Ways by Anberlin.

Peter’s knocking echoed in the hallway around him and he chewed his lip. He knew Wade was home – that awful yellow moped Wade used to get around was parked outside, he’d checked – but he had no idea if Wade would answer his door. Wade didn’t like answering his door, especially when he wasn’t expecting anyone to be knocking at it. Peter chewed his lip harder and knocked again.

He could hear footsteps, and cursing, and his heart leapt as the door was wrenched open.

“Who the fuck – ”

Peter had barely registered anything besides his own heartrate spiking before the door was being slammed shut again, hard enough to gust air in his face. Seconds ticked by before everything crashed into him. He could hear Wade cursing a blue streak behind the door, and yes, Wade had actually answered the door (albeit angrily), and Wade hadn’t been wearing a mask. Or a suit. In fact, he’d been wearing a wifebeater and sweats.

Peter had never seen him like that. He’d seen him without the mask and suit, yeah, but – Wade in civvies was Wade in boots, jeans, a turtleneck and a hoodie, a beanie and a medical mask, sunglasses if the weather or time allowed it (and occasionally even if it didn’t), sometimes gloves as well. The most skin Peter had ever seen of Wade’s was one time on a mission when the top half of the Deadpool suit got shredded. And that time, Peter had done his best not to look, out of respect for Deadpool. For Wade.

Because he knew both. _Fuck._

“Wade?” he raised his voice – he could hear Wade through the door, but he didn’t know if that was because the door was thin or maybe Wade was shouting.

There was a loud crash, and then a low sound, something Peter couldn’t make out that sounded almost like an animal.

“What the fuck do you want, Peter?”

“I, uh. I fucked up.”

The silence from the other side of the door felt much heavier than the armored truck Peter had thrown off a bridge a few days ago. He had to scratch at the back of his neck to quell the itch; Spidey-sense or anxiety, he didn’t know. Probably anxiety. He hoped.

“What do you want?”

Peter took a deep breath, hand still on the back of his neck. “I want to apologize.”

More silence. Peter took another breath.

“I was…. Fuck, I was _really_ drunk last night, and I said a lot of shit, and none of it was true – ”

“Drunk people tell the truth,” Wade interrupts. “You say true things drunk that you’d never say out loud sober.”

Peter knows Wade can’t get drunk, but the darkness in his voice speaks of experience. Either it’s a memory, or last night wasn’t the first time someone has said awful things to Wade because alcohol blurred reality. Peter really, really doesn’t want to think about either.

“Okay,” he says, chewing his lip again. “What I said might be true – ” there was a thud, the sound of a fist or maybe a head hitting the wall, “but it wasn’t about you. I, uh…,” Peter cut himself off with an empty, self-deprecating laugh. “It wasn’t about you.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Peter sighs. “Look, can – can I come in?”

There was another moment of suffocating silence, and then that same thud.

“Hold on. I need to put some fucking clothes on.”

Peter steadfastly ignores the way his heart sinks, instead passing the time by fidgeting with the fraying edge of his hoodie. After several minutes, Wade’s footsteps approached again and the door inched open.

“C’mon,” Wade mumbles. Peter takes a steadying breath and slips inside, careful not to open the door too wide. He gets in and closes the door behind him all without looking up from his feet.

There’s a pause. “Well?” Wade asks.

At that, Peter finally looks up. Wade has put on his boots, a pair of jeans, a long-sleeved turtleneck, and one of his Deadpool masks. His arms are folded across his chest, hiding his hands. Peter swallows his disappointment.

“Uh…,” Peter looks away for a moment. “Can we start over?”

“What?”

Peter sighs and looks away again, then back, trying to gather his courage. “Can we just…try this again, because…. Ugh. Okay. I’m just….” He closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, counting slowly in his head, steeling himself.

Opening his eyes and looking directly at Wade’s masked face, he sticks out his hand. “Hi, I’m Peter Parker, also kn – ”

Wade scoffs. “I know who you are, Peter.”

Peter laughs, caught off guard. It’s short and sudden and a little broken, because Wade is exactly right. He _knows_ Peter, and more than he thinks he does. “Yeah, you do, and I wasn’t…. I wasn’t finished.”

“Isn’t being cryptic and nonsensical my job?”

Another short laugh bursts out of Peter, slightly more genuine now. “Yeah, usually.”

A small pause, and Peter could swear that Wade is smiling under that mask, then, “Alright, are you going to finish?”

Peter chews his lip for a second, overcome again by anxiety. He tastes copper. “Okay. I’m Peter Parker, also known as – or, well, not known as, but…. Shit! Not the point. Also known as, uh, Spiderman.”

In hindsight, Peter should have seen it coming. As it was, he was nervous and guilty and Wade never set off his Spidey-sense, so being slammed back against the door with Wade’s arm across his throat was incredibly shocking.

“You’re too cute to be a liar.” Wade’s voice was dark, a tone Peter had never heard outside of missions. “Then again, it’s always the ones you least expect.”

Peter squirms and gasps in a breath past the pressure on his windpipe. His hands came up to Wade’s arm, one around his wrist and the other on his bicep. Ultimately, Peter knew he could throw Wade through the far wall if he just got the right leverage, but…. He didn’t want to prove himself with a show of strength, or the weaker webs he could produce naturally (since he’d left his shooters at home). Instead, he tried talking.

“No, Wade, I’m not – look,” Peter tries his best to pinpoint Wade’s gaze behind the mask, the empty white eyes a little terrifying up close like this. “Last week. Last week, you held a purse-snatcher still while I webbed him up and you said, ‘I can think of a lot of ways to use those webs, Webs,’ and I told you, ‘In your dreams, Pool,’ and the purse-snatcher called us faggots. And, and then ten minutes later you fell off of that fire escape and broke both your legs, and I had to carry you home – here – while you whined about how it isn’t fair that I’m younger and skinnier than you but I’m stronger, and – ”

Wade stops his rambling with a hand over his mouth. Peter closes his mouth, painfully aware of the texture of Wade’s scarred skin. The pressure on his throat lessens, and he takes a harsh, deep breath in, and resists the urge to cough.

They just stare at one another for a moment, Wade still pressed up against Peter, holding him to the door, his arm still across Peter’s throat and hand over Peter’s mouth.

“Why,” Peter starts, muffled, and then Wade moves his hand. “Why do you think I never invited you to my place?”

Wade turned away for a moment. “Because…. Because I’d recognize it. I’d know it as Spidey’s place, and you told me you only knew him because of the photos, and – holy shit, you take your own photos for the paper?”

Peter nods. “Yeah, I do.”

“That’s actually really impressive, and – not the point.” Wade takes a step back, and Peter finds his footing after wobbling for a second. He tries to be subtle about rubbing his throat, but based off the way Wade twitches, he doesn’t manage it. “Why didn’t you tell me? You’ve…. You’ve known I’m Deadpool this entire time.”

Peter rubs the back of his neck and looks down. “Because I’m a coward, mostly,” he murmurs, shrugging. “I wanted you to like me, and not just because you hero-worship Spiderman. So…. Yeah, hi. I’m Peter Parker, your friendly neighborhood Spiderman, your known partner in vigilante justice, and idiot extraordinaire. And I’m sorry I said a bunch of awful shit about myself last night that sounded like it was about you.”

“You’re not a murderer, Spidey. We’ve talked about this.”

“And I’ve told you – ”

“We’ve been on dates. As far as I know, at this exact moment, we’re essentially exclusive.”

Peter stops, confused by the change in subject. “I – yeah, we have, we are, what are you – ”

“We’re…dating, and have been, and you’re Spiderman.”

Peter’s still a little lost. “Yes, Wade, we’re dating, this has been established. I don’t know what you’re – ”

Wade is looking right at him and Peter stops for a second to think.

“Oh,” he says. “Oh, that’s what you’re on about.”

“So you,” Wade starts, swallows audibly, then looks away. “You. Peter Parker and Spiderman. When I hit on you, it’s….”

Peter laughs. Actually, genuinely laughs this time, entire body shaking. “Wade! Pool!”

Wade looks kind of struck, like he’s not sure what’s going on, and that just makes Peter giggle more.

“I _like it!_ ” he gasps. “Didn’t you notice – didn’t you realize I never actually complained about your pickup lines?”

Wade shakes his head, but Peter can tell he’s starting to smile a little. “I just – I thought you’d just accepted that I wasn’t going to shut up, and….”

Peter wipes at his eyes. “Wade,” he says. “I didn’t want to date you as Spiderman because I didn’t want to deal with the PR nightmare, and with the Avengers riding my ass lately it would be ten times worse. As Peter Parker, though – ”

“Can I kiss you?”

Peter stops dead and stares. Wade is staring intensely back at him, waiting for a response, but Peter’s frozen.

They’ve never kissed. Granted, they’ve only been doing this for like three months, but the furthest they’ve gone is holding hands and hugging, and Peter knows it’s because Wade is ashamed of his skin, and he’s been fine with it. But now Wade is staring at him, looking steadily more let down, and Peter _wants._

Peter swallows. “You’re gonna have to take that mask off,” he says.

Wade twitches and looks away. “I – you….”

“I promise you there’s nothing under there that’s gonna make me leave,” Peter says, as firmly and gently as he can. Then, still seeing the insecurity in the way Wade sort of curls forward into himself, he lets the want bleed into his voice. “Fuck, I want to kiss you so badly, Wade.”

Wade jolts like he’s been shocked, and Peter is moving without thinking. Suddenly he’s in Wade’s space, one hand on Wade’s broad shoulder and the other at the bottom of the mask.

“Please? You asked,” Peter says, and he knows he sounds kind of petulant and needy, “I wanna. Can I?”

Wade swallows – Peter’s close enough he can see the slight movement of his adam’s apple through the turtleneck – then nods. Peter starts tugging at the mask, getting it up to Wade’s jawline before Wade stops him.

Peter can see the smallest sliver of scarred skin over Wade’s throat and he’s transfixed.

“Promise?” Wade whispers.

“Not going anywhere,” Peter murmurs back. “Let me.”

Wade’s hand drops after a moment of hesitation and Peter continued tugging the mask up. It’s barely off – he hasn’t even managed to clearly look at Wade’s face – before they’re kissing, frantic and messy and perfect.

Peter runs his hands over Wade’s head, feeling the texture of the scars and the way they shift in real time. Wade shudders and whimpers into the kiss.

Peter pulls back just enough to speak. “Does that hurt?” he asks. He knows that Wade’s always in pain, that some days are better than others. He doesn’t want to hurt Wade if he can avoid it.

“No.” Wade kisses him again. “Fuck, no,” another kiss, “please don’t stop,” another, “I just want….”

“Whatever you want,” Peter murmurs, accepting each kiss Wade plants on him, pressing closer.

Wade whines and turns them suddenly, pushing backward until Peter falls blindly into a chair. Wade wastes no time climbing up into his lap and returning to the kissing. Peter has one hand still on Wade’s head, the other dropped down to Wade’s hip, and his head is spinning. This is everything he’s ever wanted and more, and Wade just keeps giving, deepening the kiss and pressing closer and Peter is blindingly hard.

“Fuck, I want…,” Wade starts, mid-kiss, then shakes his head. “No, it’s…no, sorry….”

“What?” Peter asks, petting over Wade’s scalp and reveling in the way he shivers. “What do you want? Please, Wade?”

“Moving too fast,” Wade mutters, biting gently at Peter’s bottom lip. “Too much.”

“No,” Peter replies, using his grip on Wade’s hip to pull him down at the same time he rolls his hips up. “Not too fast, fuck, what do you want, Wade? Wanna give it to you.”

Wade outright moans, dropping his head to Peter’s shoulder. “Fuck me,” he says, lips against Peter’s throat.

Peter shudders. “Yeah,” he says. “Bedroom,” he adds, hands sliding down Wade’s thighs to his knees so he can pull Wade forward. At the same time, he stands, stumbling a little because his balance is off, but hefting Wade’s weight around his waist effortlessly.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Wade half-shouts it, legs squeezing around Peter’s waist.

Peter just squeezes back, walking mostly blind to Wade’s bedroom. He finds the bed when his knees hit it, dropping Wade rather unceremoniously onto the mattress. He takes the moment to really look at Wade, his wide eyes and scarred skin and panting, open mouth. Peter groans.

“Lube,” he mutters, and reaches toward the makeshift nightstand. Wade is tugging at his shirt when he leans back with the sticky bottle, and he pulls it off with one hand. “Condoms?”

“Can’t carry anything,” Wade says, staring openly at Peter’s chest. “Only thing I’ve got is cancer.”

Peter nods decisively and drops the lube to Wade’s side, pushing the bottom of the turtleneck up. Wade doesn’t even seem to notice, leaning forward to steal a kiss. Peter indulges him for a few moments, then pulls back and takes the turtleneck with him, tossing it somewhere he doesn’t pay attention to. Wade’s already gotten Peter’s button and fly undone – when did that happen? – so Peter goes to work on Wade’s, biting at a scarred, defined pec while he tugs the denim down.

“It’s okay if you don’t look,” Wade says, suddenly, voice cold compared to seconds ago. Peter looks up at him, a little incredulous, then looks back down as he finishes pulling Wade’s jeans down.

He’s just as scarred between his legs as he is everywhere else, but all Peter wants to do is feel those scars shifting around in his mouth. Without thinking – or warning – he ducks down and sucks the head of Wade’s cock into his mouth. Wade bucks and shouts, fingers of one hand tangling in Peter’s hair while the other tears at the sheets.

Peter can taste precome, bitter and salty, and skin, and copper, and all he wants is more. He wants to hear Wade fucking scream, but Wade is tugging at his hair, pulling him up.

“Fuck,” Wade pants when Peter finally looks up at him, “fuck, yeah, later, but please – fuck, please fuck me.”

Peter nods and stands back up, shoving his own jeans and underwear down and stepping out of them and his sneakers. He leans over Wade to grab the lube and kisses him again, mostly tongue, and Wade whines. Peter gets lube everywhere in his haste but doesn’t care, shoving one of Wade’s legs back and crawling onto the bed on his knees.

Wade’s eyes are shut and his head is back and his chest is heaving and Peter can’t stop himself from muttering, “God, you’re beautiful,” just as he presses one finger to Wade’s hole.

Wade cries out and jerks up, body swallowing Peter’s finger to the knuckle. Peter holds still, watching Wade for any pain, but Wade just groans and presses further forward.

“Please,” he’s muttering between gasps, “please, please, please.”

“Shh,” Peter hushes, wiggling his finger and grinning when Wade’s entire body shudders. “I’ve got you, yeah?”

“Mmm.” Wade’s eyes open and he leans up. Peter surges forward to kiss him, pressing his finger deeper at the same time so Wade loses his breath into the kiss.

“More,” Wade eventually pants against Peter’s cheek. “God, please, more, Peter, I can’t – ”

“Hush,” Peter quiets him, leaning back just long enough to put more lube on his fingers before he’s back, face-to-face with Wade. “I’ve got you. We’ll get there.”

His second finger goes in easy, easier than it rightly should, but Peter doesn’t bother thinking on it. Instead, he starts scissoring, and kisses Wade again, addicted to the feel and the little noises Wade makes into his mouth.

“So beautiful,” Peter mutters. “Fucking gorgeous, Wade.”

Wade’s hips buck up and he whines, the grip he’s got on Peter’s bicep tightening almost to pain. “Peter,” he gasps, “Petey, Spidey, please – ”

“Hmm, one more, baby.” Peter presses as far as he can with two fingers, feeling the shiver that rocks Wade’s spine. “Can you do that for me?”

Wade groans, low and rough, then nods. “Please.”

“Good boy,” Peter murmurs, kissing the corner of Wade’s mouth where a sore has opened up. He licks his lips and tastes blood, leans down and licks it into Wade’s mouth. Wade just moans and clings, clenching down on Peter’s fingers. Peter deepens the kiss and starts pressing in a third, feeling the way that Wade tenses and relaxes in turns. He’s never felt anything as amazing as this, he’s absolutely positive.

“God I fucking love you,” Peter mutters. “Always have, always will, you’re so incredible, I just – oh, _fuck,_ ” Peter loses his breath and his train of thought when Wade keens and _comes,_ ass clenching down on Peter’s fingers and abs contracting.

Peter leans down and sucks the head of Wade’s cock into his mouth again, desperate to taste him. Wade makes a broken sound and convulses, curling up around Peter. Peter just moans around his mouthful and swallows the continuing pulses.

When Wade has finally relaxed, Peter lets go of his softening cock and starts to pull away, trying to remove his fingers as gently as possible. Wade hisses and stops him.

“You’d better be planning to replace those with your dick,” he says, voice even more gravelly than usual and words a little slurred.

Peter looks up at him. “You’re sure?”

“I won’t break,” Wade promises. “Please fuck me, Peter.”

Peter drops his head to Wade’s hip and groans, dick twitching violently. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, fuck, where’s the lube?”

Wade fishes it out from under his back and hands it over, and Peter is struck for a second. Wade’s laying sprawled across the bed, legs splayed open, cum on his stomach and eyes wide and soft, and Peter is _wrecked._

He barely gets lube on his cock before he’s crashing into Wade again, desperate to kiss him, to feel him. “Perfect,” Peter mutters as he lines up. “So fucking perfect, Wade, beautiful and gorgeous and perfect, fuck.”

Wade whines and arches up, losing his breath as Peter pushes in.

“Oh, fuck,” Wade cries, “fuck, fuck, Peter, please, more, goddamn – ”

Peter braces himself on his elbows, entwining his fingers together behind Wade’s head, and kisses him soundly. One of Wade’s legs wraps around his back, pushing him closer and deeper, and Wade’s arms wrap around his shoulders. Peter lets him cling, working his hips in little circles until he’s buried to the hilt, gasping into Wade’s mouth.

“Petey,” Wade sighs, all of the tension going out of him. He’s practically deadweight, arms hooked around Peter’s back and leg on his ass. Peter holds him up with no problems, grinning when Wade realizes it and shivers.

“Move,” Wade finally says. “Fuck me like you mean it.”

Peter smirks and drops a chaste kiss to Wade’s nose. “Your wish is my command,” he murmurs. “Let me know if you need to stop, yeah?”

Wade gives him a watery, adoring look and nods. “Mhm.”

Peter goes slow at first, partially a tease, partially just to savor the feeling. Wade whines but doesn’t try to speed him up, lying still except for his hips that pulse along with Peter’s pace.

“Do you want to know when I realized I was in love with you?” Peter whispers it in Wade’s ear as he starts to move faster, and gets a punchy, wordless affirmative from Wade.

“When you broke your hand trying to punch Tony,” Peter chuckles a little – it’s a funny memory. “Tony was so pissed, and you were just waving your useless bleeding hand in his face, and I thought – this is it for me.”

Wade keened and arched up. Peter took the opportunity to bite at his neck, leaving hickeys that fade as quickly as they appear. “I realized, holy shit, I loved you. Loved you, and wanted to spend my life with you, outside of the suits, in them too. Have I ever told you how much I fucking love how you look in that suit?”

Peter props himself up a little to look at Wade’s face, hips still moving steady. Wade’s head is thrown back, his eyes half-lidded as he looks at Peter. He’s flushed, even though it’s splotchy, clear to his stomach, and his dick is twitching back to hardness.

“Gonna,” Wade pants, eyes squeezing shut when Peter speeds up again, “gonna make me cum. Again.”

Peter laughs. “Good. Go ahead, Wade, I want to feel it.”

He sits up a little more, adjusting the angle and Wade’s position, until Wade shouts at the next thrust in. Peter carefully keeps the angle, sweat dripping down his face as he watches Wade unravel underneath him. He’s so close, but he just wants to watch Wade cum again, feel the way his body constricts.

“K-keep talking,” Wade pleads between whines, hands scrabbling at the sheets for a grip. “Please.”

“Hmm, what do you want to hear?” Peter asks, slowing his thrusts down just a little so his accuracy is better. Wade shudders so hard Peter almost loses his grip. “How much I love you? All the dumb little things that make me love you? Or how about how hot I find you, hmm?”

Wade makes a noise like something punched him in the sternum and Peter grins. “That’s the winner, isn’t it? God, Wade, I can’t believe you hide under so many layers all the time. The first time I ever saw you in that suit, I had to go home and jack off. All I could think about is how big you are. I wanted to know if I could hold you down, or if maybe you could pin me.”

“And it’s not just your build that gets me,” Peter continues, panting harshly through the exertion, “god, it’s everything. The way you move, the way you smile, your gorgeous eyes. I know I act all tough and disapproving, but the first time I watched you take down goons with your katanas, I almost came in my pants. You’re huge but you can move like not even I can – graceful and deadly, and _fuck_ , it gets me going.”

“Peter,” Wade whines, high pitched and breathless, “Peter – I – _fuck_.”

Peter grins and balances on one hand, the other grabbing Wade’s cock. “Are you going to cum?”

“Yes!” Wade shivers, body tight, confused between whether he wants to put into Peter’s hand or his dick. Peter takes the need to decide away, stroking Wade’s cock in the same rhythm his hips are moving.

Wade lets out something close to a screech. Peter keeps at it, feeling the way Wade’s body tightens, watching the way his face twists with pleasure.

At the last second, Peter bends down without stopping and presses his lips to Wade’s ear. “I can’t wait till next time,” he whispers. “Next time, I want to worship your cock. I want you to fuck my face like I’m fucking you, and then I want you to fuck me through this mattress. Show me how strong you really are.”

Wade makes an odd, broken sound and goes still for a split second before the moment breaks, and then he’s cumming, entire body shuddering and undulating so hard Peter nearly loses his balance.

He keeps it, barely, and grits his teeth to keep himself in check. Wade’s gasping and whimpering, twisting wildly as Peter keeps fucking him. It’s too much; the clenching and the look on Wade’s face are too much for Peter to handle, and he starts to pull out, but Wade stops him with his feet on Peter’s ass.

“Inside,” he hisses. “Fuck, fill me up.”

Peter shudders and loses it, slamming back inside and half-collapsing over Wade as his orgasm crashes over him. “Wade,” he breathes. “ _Fuck,_ Wade, baby….”

Wade stays wrapped around him through the comedown, both of them panting into each other’s skin.

“Say it again,” Wade finally murmurs, breath tickling Peter’s ear. Peter smiles and presses a sucking kiss to Wade’s jaw.

“I love you, Wade.”

Wade’s arms and legs squeeze around him, and Peter pretends he can’t feel and hear Wade crying. They fall asleep like that, wrapped so tightly together neither of them really knows where one begins and the other ends.

**Author's Note:**

> author desperately requires validation for their nonsense. pls.


End file.
